Remembering Magic
by macawtopia
Summary: Returning from London, Mary soon sees that much has changed at Misselthwaite. Colin's become a pompous doctor, Medlock is set on having her well married and she's started developing a forbidden love… Not even Magic can sort this one out, or so Mary thinks
1. A Horse

Alright, I wrote this because _The Secret Garden_ was my first favourite book, and I still believe that it's one of the most beautiful and magical childrens books ever written. So, in honor of that, I tried to capture some of the magic in this little story.

I'm not sure if I've managed to convey just how enchanting I find the book and how much I adore the characters, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyways =]

xxx

Mary wakened to the raucous but familiar sound of someone raking the cinders in her room. Slowly sitting up in her bed, she rubbed the tiredness from her eyes and turned to see where the sound was coming from.

And she almost laughed with joy at what she saw.

Sitting on the hearth rug and busily cleaning out the fireplace, was none other than Martha. Dear, sweet Martha with her round rosy face and bright smile! Mary hadn't seen the dear in nearly three years.

Martha was so absorbed in polishing the grate to perfection that she didn't notice Mary creep out of bed and tip-toe behind her. So she nearly jumped clean in the air when Mary cried, "Good morning!"

"Merciful heavens!"

Martha whirled around, clutching the rag she'd been using to her heart, and saw Mary nearly doubled over with laughter. Being a good natured woman, Martha joined her, and then exclaimed with a smile, "Miss Mary, tha'rt a sight for sore eyes indeed. I didna know you were back yet! My, tha's bloomed pretty as a rose in the summertime. Tha'rt sixteen now, yes?"

"I am."

Mary couldn't help but blush at how Martha was looking at her. Her eyes were wide with wonder and admiration, which was a far cry from the amused looks she used to shoot at her. With a jolt, Mary also realized that she'd grown just the same height as her old maid. Surely she hadn't been away that long…

Martha, who'd gone back to shining up the grate, didn't notice Mary's amazement. "So, Miss Mary. Dids't tha like London? Meser Colin's done nothin' but rave 'bout it non stop since he got here last week."

When Mary remained silent, Martha looked up at her inquiringly. "Tha'rt upset about something." It wasn't a question.

Mary sighed. She'd forgotten the knack the Sowerby's had of hearing all the thoughts in her head without her saying them. "I'm not upset, Martha. Truly I'm not. I just _really_ missed the moor."

"And thy garden?"

Mary nodded her agreement, "Especially my garden."

A small grin appeared on Martha's face, "Well then, tha'd best be goin' to visit it as soon as possible."

Reading the sparkle in her dear friend's eyes, Mary gasped, "You want me to go there _now_?"

Martha gave her a small nod, "If tha hurries, you will'na miss breakfast."

With a smile, Mary threw her arms around Martha in a big hug of thanks, changed into a proper dress, her stocking and shoes, and took of running to the place she knew, was the most magical in the world.

xxx

Her breath caught in her throat as Mary lifted the curtain of ivy from the secret door. She felt as though the world was silent, as though the birds had stopped chirping and the squirrels had stopped their scurrying to watch as she and her garden were reunited.

Silly as that sounded, Mary couldn't help but believe it, so she took her time reaching for the door's handle.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet smells of the moor in the summer. Heather, wildflowers and a waft of roses from within the garden, mixed with the clean, crisp, fresh air of the moor itself assaulted her senses. She was home.

Taking one last breath of the moor air, she opened the door to her paradise and walked in.

It took her only a few moments to reacquaint herself with the sweeping walkways, the veils of hanging roses and the thick carpet of wildflowers which brushed her ankles. Then, she began to feel as comfortable as if she'd never left.

_This_ was where she belonged. _Here_ with all of the flowers she'd spent countless hours planting and caring for. Because when you were kind to flowers, they were kind to you. When you poured your heart out to them, they didn't turn on you, tell the entire boarding school about your deepest secrets, and then laugh at you as the other girls mocked your acquired Yorkshire accent and preference of plants over most people…

Mary shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. She was home now, and she should only focus on the nice parts of her two year stay at 'Miss. Merryweather's Finishing School for Girls'. After all, she _had_ made some real friends there. They would never be as close to her as her friends at Misselthwaite, but they had been nice and included her.

Just then, Mary noticed something amiss in her paradise; a weed. A tall, defiant, obtrusive weed.

With a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, Mary bent down and carefully pulled it up, roots and all. And just like that, her mind – the mind which had spent the last two years learning how to make proper conversation, play music, cram history, French, Latin, literature and arithmetic- reverted back to the way it had been before she left. She remembered exactly what needed to be done to make the garden happy, and she started doing it, basking in the feel of sweet smelling black earth under her fingers. She'd been at it for about a quarter of an hour, when she heard a soft whistling coming from behind her.

Straining her ears, Mary recognized the whistling as a gay Yorkshire tune, and by the sound of it, the whistler was walking briskly along the long path to the garden.

Wishing with all her heart that the whistler was whom she thought it was, Mary turned around and waited for the door to open. It did, and in walked her favourite person in the whole world. "Dickon!"

He hadn't changed the least bit since she'd last seen him; he still wore a loose white shirt with rolled up sleeves hiding patches at the elbows and he had a robin perched on his shoulder. His nose still turned up in a way that Mary loved, his hair was still a tangle of rust coloured curls, and even after all of her lessons on fine English literature, Mary could only describe his eyes as she had when she was ten; sparkling, round pieces of the sky.

For a moment, he looked completely taken aback at the sight of her; clearly no one had told him that she'd come back from London a week earlier than expected. Then a wide grin broke out on his face, "Why Miss Mary, tha'rt the prettiest flower in the garden."

And then Mary could no longer contain herself. She took off running towards him, quite scaring his robin away, and threw her arms around his neck, "Oh Dickon, I've missed you!"

He merely laughed as he hugged her back, "And I've missed thee, Miss Mary. I've missed thee. I had a right pretty time tryin' to maintain this garden by myself, so it'll be somethin' wonderful to have your help again."

Releasing him of her vice grip, Mary stepped back and gave him a grateful smile. She knew as well as he did that he'd had no trouble whatsoever maintaining the garden alone. But she was sure that he knew how much she'd missed gardening, and was allowing her to help.

So, the two of them walked together over to where the garden tools were, and prattled away as they had when they were young.

"I'm sorry for scaring away your robin, Dickon."

"_My_ robin? Eh, dost tha not recognize her?" His eyes gleamed with mischief and Mary knit her eyebrows in confusion. "No, I…oh! You can't mean…"

Dickon nodded the affirmative. "I do. She's the young un o' Ben Weatherstaff's robin. The one tha watched hatch."

Mary's eyes went wide in wonder as she picked up her old gardening fork and started to help her plants breathe. "But, she was such a tiny thing when I left! She sure did grow fast."

"She sure did" Dickon agreed, but his eyes were on Mary. "Seems only yesterday she was learnin' to fly, and now she's out looking for a new mate. She's an awful picky chooser too."

Even after all these years, Mary couldn't help but feel that Dickon must be some sort of woodland fairy. He knew more about nature than any of the well known botanists she'd met in London, and he really and truly could communicate with all animals. "Where did she go now?" Mary asked with hushed breath.

"I reckon she's just gone to fetch a nice worm for breakfast. Speakin' o' which, shouldn't tha be headed off for thy own victuals?"

"I think I'll stay just a bit longer." Mary said, clearing some weeds from around a bed of lilies.

Dickon grinned at her obvious reluctance to leave her garden. He was about to mention this, when he heard the flutter of two pairs of wings and saw not one, but two streaks of red fly to the top of a tall tree nearby.

Mary noticed it too, and she looked like she was going to say something, so Dickon stopped her. "Hush Miss Mary", he said in a voice so quiet that she could hardly hear him. "Thy robin's got herself a mate, and they're checkin' if this place is safe enough for them to make their nest. We munnot stay this close."

He put his warm hand on her arm, and gently pulled her back away from the tree with him. They crept so slowly that Mary hardly felt they were moving, but eventually they were far enough from the robin, and well enough covered by the shade of the rose bushes that Dickon stopped. "Now we mun keep as still as the trees."

Mary began to feel awfully self conscious as she crouched on her hands and knees next to Dickon. He was so close to her that his warm forearm was lightly brushing hers, and one of his curls was tickling her ear. She didn't think that she'd ever been this close to a man, for at eighteen Dickon was, indeed, a man. Somehow, this fact had only just occurred to Mary, and she wondered idly what the prim girls at her school would have said if they saw her with him now. She blushed.

Dickon didn't seem to notice this, though, he was far to busy concentrating on the robins. Without actually staring at them, he watched them as closely as possible.

Mary, who knew that if she dared a glance up at the birds she'd probably scare them, chose to look at Dickon instead. He looked so innocent, gentle and perfect crouching there beside her, without a single bad thought in that curly head of his. He was nothing like the prissy gentlemen Mary's school friends had gushed over, and she was glad. So, without really deciding to do it, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his cheek.

Unlike most gentlemen, he didn't blush, turn his face to capture her lips with his, or make a declaration of love to her. Instead, he closed his blue eyes, and breathed deeply, as if basking in the feel of the moment. And Mary instantly felt that that was just how she would have wanted him to react, if she could choose.

Leaning back, she removed her lips from his face and smiled at him. He grinned back. Then they both heard the twittering of busy robins, and looked up to see that their feathered friends had decided to start building their nest in the tree after all.

So, Dickon stood up slowly, so as not to alarm the birds, and Mary followed him. Then he turned to her and said in a voice which was only slightly quieter than normal, "Tha'rt as sweet as a moorland pony, tha'rt."

Mary was rather taken aback. She'd just _kissed_ him and he was comparing her to a horse. She hadn't exactly expected him to do anything conventional, but really, a horse?

Sensing her confusion, Dickon laughed, "Dost tha remember Jump, my pony?"

Mary nodded wordlessly, and he continued, "Well, and you will'na believe this, once, on a misty day, Jump got lost out on the moor an' he was out there for 'bout a week a' fore I found him. The poor lad was frightened as a baby lamb out there, and twice as helpless. An' after I found 'im an took 'im back home, dost tha know what he did?"

Mary shook her head, no, and Dickon grinned, "He gave me a kiss on the cheek same as you!" Dickon said with a hearty laugh.

Mary couldn't help but laugh as well, though she was sighing on the inside. Trust her to start falling for the only boy in the world who didn't see the difference between being kissed by a girl and being kissed by a horse.

Just then, the grand Manor's clock struck eight, and Mary realized that she would be very late for breakfast if she didn't leave immediately. Dickon knew this too, so he said, "I'd get movin' if I were thee. Dinna worry, I'll be here when tha get's back."

So, Mary bid him goodbye, and as she ran back to the Manor she felt lighter hearted than she had in over two years.

xxx

So, I hoped you enjoyed it, and thanks for takin' the time to read =]


	2. Being Wicked

Well, I honestly wasn't planning on extending this oneshot, as I was quite happy with it just the way it was... but obviously, the lovely reviews I got were more than enough to get me writing again! So, thanks to everyone who took the time to review, this one's for you =]

And one more thing... I've recently discovered that the _Secret Garden_ already has a published sequel. But, as I've not read it and have no real desire _to_ read it, my story completely disregards it. Savvy? Thanks!

xxx

When Mary reached her room in the Manor, she was quite breathless from her run. But, she knew that she still had to hurry if she didn't want to be late for breakfast with her uncle and Colin, so she hastily changed into a clean dress, did her hair in a smart bun, and then set off to the dining room.

As a child, she'd only eaten there a handful of times, preferring to take meals in her room or outside. In fact, she'd been there so few times, that she couldn't for the life of her remember where the room was...

She had been wandering around, searching for it for a few minutes, when she came across a very familiar portrait. It was the portrait which had most intrigued her when she'd first gone wandering through the manor by herself, and it was of a stiff, plain little girl wearing a green dress and holding a green parrot.

Looking at the picture was like looking at a likeness of her younger self, for Mary. The girl looked lonely, but she also looked as if she had no intentions of bothering to make friends with others. After all, why should she? Shouldn't _they_ all act exactly as she instructed? And on top of that, shouldn't they all make an extra effort to be pleasing and kind to her, no matter how badly she treated them and behaved?

Mary's nose wrinkled with distaste as she recalled what a horrid brat she'd been. How on Earth had Martha and Dickon put up with her? And although she knew it was wicked, she secretly felt glad of the cholera pandemic which had ripped her from her parents, for she knew that if she'd never found the secret garden, or met Dickon, she'd still be just as disagreeable as she'd been as a child.

"Miss Mary! What art tha doin' here?"

Mary almost jumped in shock at being addressed. She spun around quickly, and pretended to frown at the girl in front of her, "Was that revenge for me sneaking up on _you_ this morning, Martha?"

Martha looked confused, and it was then that Mary realized that the girl in front of her was not, in fact, Martha. She bore a great resemblance to her, but she looked about as old as Martha had been when Mary had first met her.

Just then, understanding seemed to dawn on the girl's face. "_Oh!_ Tha confused me with m'sister. Well, I'm not Martha, I'm 'Lizabeth Ellen. You can call me Lizzy though… Oh, what's the matter Miss?"

She asked this because a look of intense concentration had passed over Mary's face. She'd heard the name 'Lizabeth Ellen before, but she just couldn't seem to recall…"The skipping rope!"

Lizzy just stared, "Beggin' thy pardon miss, but, what are –"

"Martha told me that _you_ were the little girl who saw the skipping rope she bought me, on the trader's wagon. Do you remember?"

"Er..."

Realizing how silly she sounded, Mary backtracked, "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, of course. I mean, you were very young then, and it couldn't have meant nearly as much to you as it did to me."

Looking up, Mary saw that Lizzy had closed her eyes in an effort to remember. Then, she popped them open and grinned. "It had blue handles, didn't it? And Martha told us that you did'na even know what it was."

Mary smiled sheepishly, "That's right, and - Oh!"

With a start, she remembered that she'd been due at breakfast a good quarter hour ago, "Oh my goodness!"

Lizzy, who once more looked completely at a loss as to why Mary was behaving the way she was, opened her mouth to say something, but Mary didn't let her. "Where is the dining room? Could you _please_ tell me?"

"It's straight down the hall miss. But why-"

"I'm sorry Lizzy, I must go immediately. Or Mrs. Medlock will have my head!"

And with that, Mary tore down the hall to join her family for breakfast.

xxx

"You're late."

"I know, Mrs. Medlock, and I'm sorry, truly I am."

"We saw fit to start the meal without you."

What Mary really wanted to do, was to cry out '_I can see that, I'm not blind you finicky old woman!'_

As it was, she composedly said, "I'm glad you did too, for I'd have hated to make you wait for me." There. She'd given a polite answer which would have made the teachers at her finishing school smile with approval. Of course, it wasn't enough to make Medlock smile.

"Well, sit down then, we haven't got all day."

"Yes, Mrs. Medlock."

Mary hurried to take a seat next to her cousin, and then proceeded to stuff herself with toast, bacon and eggs as quickly as she could, without appearing unladylike.

"So, Mary", Colin said, after a long period of wordless chewing, "How did you find your time at the finishing school?"

Mary hated his formal tone, but with her uncle and Medlock around, he could use no other. "I learned a great deal there. But not nearly as much as _you've_ learned, _Dr. Craven_."

A hint of a smile traced Colin's features, and Mary knew that this was pleasure from being addressed by his soon to be new title.

Colin had pursued medicine, and was studying to be a physician, and Mary suspected that this had something to do with his troubled childhood. After all, if so many incompetent doctors hadn't predicted his own death, then he wouldn't have been the miserable boy he was.

And, of course, science had always had an appeal for Colin. He'd decided early on in life that he would be a 'scientific discoverer', and Mary had a sneaking suspicion that he still wanted to be one. She almost smiled as she recalled his first 'experiment' in the garden; his first time walking was one of her most precious memories.

Looking at him, Mary tried to convey what she was thinking to him with just her eyes, as she had when they were younger. But she was met with only a blank stare, and then confusion as to why she was staring so pointedly. Mary sighed and turned away.

Finally, Mrs. Medlock decided that silence had reigned at the table for too long. "Meser Craven, isn't it time you told Mary about her ball?"

Archibald, who had been obliviously enjoying his toast, looked up. "What? Oh, yes… Mary, we've arranged a ball, in your honor, to honor your getting back and such, and…what else was it for, Medlock?"

Mrs. Medlock frowned, "It's for her to meet some of Colin's _friends_ from school, invite some of her own _friends_, and find a suitable husband."

Mrs Medlock's mouth almost puckered when she was forced to say the sour word 'friends', and her expression was still less pleasant at the mention of a 'husband'. Mary had to suppress a laugh at the old woman's expense, but then the gravity of the situation hit her like a sack of bricks, "Hang on… Marry?" Mary considered this, and said slowly,"I hardly think that a ball would be necessary in order for me to find a husband."

"Nonsense, child." Mrs. Medlock pronounced gravely, "You've not got _any_ prospects at the moment, and you'll need to make _some_ effort if you're ever going to find a groom. In fact, you'll be spending the rest of the day with me, planning the ball. I see you've finished your breakfast, so you can come with me now, to prepare a guest list."

The old woman stood up, and she towered imposingly over the seated Mary. "But I…." Mary trailed off, not sure if she should continue. Then she thought the better of it, and tried again, "I promised I'd meet Dickon in the garden."

Medlock looked completely stunned, "Garden? Gracious me, girl, you're not a child anymore! You can't fritter away all of your time in the mud!"

"But I –"

"I won't have it."

Mary looked to her cousin for support, but he only shook his head, "She's right, Mary. You're a young lady now."

Mary couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed at his words. Looking at her cousin, the dignified, rule abiding medical student, she could hardly recognize the boy who had reached to the sky and shouted, "The Magic is in me!" The man in front of her would probably laugh if she brought up magic; all of his own had been replaced with knowledge. Cold hard facts.

Mary's train of thought was suddenly derailed as Mrs. Medlock gave her a hard stare, "Come along then, Miss Mary."

With a sigh, Mary did 'come along', but as she did her thoughts were certainly not on the ball.

She was thinking of how Dickon still believed in magic as strongly as she did, and she was wondering if he'd be at all disappointed when she didn't come to meet him.

Wicked as it was, she hoped he would be.

xxx

Eh, sorry for bugging you guys again... but I just wanted to say I'll probably be doing weekly updates. So, please check back again next Sunday (It is, in fact, Sunday morning, in my time zone) and I'll have a new chapter up =]


	3. Squirrels

As she sat in her room with Mrs. Medlock, helping to compile a guest list for her ball, Mary felt certain that she'd never been quite this bored before in her life. Finishing school, with it's never ending lessons on language and etiquette, had certainly come close, but none of the teachers there had voices _quite _as monotone and droning as Medlock's. Much to her own embarrassment, Mary found herself slowly nodding off as the woman went on and on and on… then she'd jerk her head back up again. And then her she'd find herself inching forewords again, perhaps if she closed her eyes for _just_ a moment… _No_. She _had_ to stay awake.

"I've taken the liberty of asking Colin which of his friends he considers worth inviting", the old woman was saying, "He's given me a list of about twenty young men, seven young women, and their families".

"Mmmhmm…" Mary breathed distractedly, as she gazed longingly out her window. She couldn't remember the moor sky ever having been this blue and devoid of clouds, or the sun having been this bright. The moor was dancing with freshness, greenery and life, and Mary longed to be a part of it.

"And then there is Mr. Heists", Mrs Medlock read, without looking up from her list," He's a fine young man who lives not too far from here, and he's expressed a desire to meet you."

"Oh…"

"I've heard that he's very handsome, if it's not too forward, Mary."

"Really…"

"He has a pumkin for a head"

"Mmmhmm…"

"Mary, are you even _listening_ to me?'

"Oh…" Mary sighed to her window pane. Then Medlock's words registered, and she blushed, "I mean… of course I am!"

Medlock scowled with disapproval, "That's it! I've had it!"

And with that she marched over to Mary's window, and drew the heavy curtains over the beatiful image of the moor in summertime. They were instantly plunged into darkness, and Mary took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at the old woman. Unfortunately for her, Medlock managed to light a gloomy lamp fast enough to see the childish gesture.

Rather than offering Mary her customary scowl, though, she sighed.

"Miss Mary I…" the woman trailed off with a frown, and then took a deep breath. "Look, while you were away, you're uncle had the pleasure of meeting some of Colin's lady friends, and he couldn't help but notice a distinct difference between them and you. So, he decided to make me your chaperone, and help mold you into a fine woman. But I canna do it without thy help!"

She spoke her last sentence in broad Yorkshire, and Mary knew that she only did that when especially flustered about something.

Sensing that Mary was giving in, Medlock continued in a persuasive tone, "Look, your uncle told me to watch you and protect you at all times, but if you cooperate, I'll let you spend your afternoons without me in your garden. Fair?"

Mary gave Mrs. Medlock her nicest smile, "Oh, yes!"

"Then let's get back to that list."

"If we _must_."

"We must."

xxx

Freedom! Freedom at last! Mary burst from her dreary room like a newly released prisoner, and took a moment to inhale the sweet, cool air of the hallway. Only a moment, though, because then she was hurrying off to her garden. She didn't want to tarry for anything… until she noticed her cousin lounging about and sipping some tea. That made her decide to stop just long enough to say:

"Hello, Colin! Are you busy?"

"Not really. Why do you ask, Mary?"

"I was just going to the garden, and I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

Colin looked away from her, "Actually… I just remembered some reading I had to do. Maybe some other day, alright?"

Mary tried her best to hide her surprise and disappointment at his answer as she nodded and left. Since when had Colin preferred books over their garden? Who was this dull man, and what had he done with her cousin?

Colin's change of character saddened Mary, but her off mood corrected itself quickly as she heard a low whistling sound coming from inside the garden. The soft music invited her to enter, which she carefully did. And just as she'd suspected, she saw Dickon sitting cross legged in the centre of the garden, and playing his wooden pipe to a strange audience composed of two squirrels, a fox, Jump the horse, and the robins.

Dickon noticed her, and looked up without stopping his music. Then, with just his bright blue eyes, he told her 'Dinna move, Miss Mary. I'll be with thee in just a moment.'

She nodded in understanding, and Dickon stopped playing. Slowly getting up, he whispered to his animals, "Show's over, lads; you canna just _sit_ here all day. There's food to be foragin' and nests what need buildin'. Get along now."

Even after knowing Dickon so long, Mary still found his ability to train animals incredible. At his words, the squirrels instantly scurried off up some nearby trees, and the fox ran back out of the garden and towards his burrow - after nuzzling Dickon's boot in the most adorable way possible. The robins got back to work on the construction of their nest, and only Jump remained standing where he was.

Once all of the activity had calmed down, Mary allowed herself to talk, "Sorry I'm late, Dickon, Mrs. Medlock wouldn't let me leave."

Dickon only shrugged, and Mary felt slightly irritated at his indifference. So, she gave him a look of displeasure, and thought of a proper reason to be upset at him. "Hmmm, didn't I tell you to get some _work _done on the garden?"

Feeling slightly guilty under her disapproving glare, Dickon smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through his curls, "Yes, that tha did."

"Then _why_, pray tell, where you just sitting there, playing with the animals?"

"It was'na my fault, Miss Mary, truly! That sly fox would'na leave 'till he had a bit 'o music, and don't get me started on the squirrels. They're no' as innocent as they seem; the fluffy devils _threatened_ me."

His eyes were wide, and he looked earnest, and Mary was struggling to keep a smile off her face. But then she caught the mischief and laughter dancing in those eyes, and she gave in to a fit of giggles.

"Dinna laugh at me, Miss Mary, I was a'feared for my_ life_!" Dickon exclaimed, clutching at his heart dramatically while trying, and failing, to look serious.

"Because of two _squirrels_?" Mary managed to cry out between peals of laughter. She was imagining him being chased around the garden by two angry fluffballs, and the thought almost amused her to tears.

Unable to resist her mirth, Dickon admitted defeat and laughed with her, "Yes, Miss Mary, two squirrels. Two downright vicious squirrels."

Needless to say, Mary had a wonderful afternoon in the garden with Dickon, laughing at the many tricks his animals could perform, cuddling with a couple of bunnies Dickon had fetched from the moor, and of course, helping her garden grow.

The only problem was that she had started to feel shy around him. Not always, but when they were particularly close to each other, or when his hand had brushed hers as he'd placed a fluffy rabbit into her arms. She felt as if she wanted to kiss him again, but not on the cheek, and found herself stumbling over words which she'd had no trouble saying before. Words like 'and' and 'the'.

Much to her relief, he didn't seem to notice, and Mary was starting to wish that she hadn't either.

xxx

No matter how hard he tried, Colin couldn't seem to concentrate on the book he was reading that afternoon. Every time he attempted to focus on the page in front of him, his thoughts ran to his fair cousin, and how much help she needed to get back on track with reality. He simply couldn't believe how _cavalier_ she was being with her life.

After all, although she'd always been quite childish and casual with him the few times he'd met up with her in London, he had always believed that her flippancy was merely from joy at seeing him again. He had assumed that it would wear off after they'd spent sufficient time together, and that she'd then start to act her age.

So, when Mary had come back from London, he'd expected her to have matured, and to have realized that it was _her_ responsibility to try and find a wealthy and suitable husband. But she'd come back acting exactly as she had before she'd left, if not worse. Colin worried about her, worried that she'd be forced to live as an old maid if she didn't stop squandering all of her time away in the mud and being as reclusive as his father.

The girl simply had to grow up! Granted, their garden had seemed magical and special when they were children, but to hold on to that now, in Colin's eyes, was sheer madness. Mary needed to realize that they weren't ten years old anymore, and that her entire future could depend on how she spent her next few weeks. After all, this ball would almost certainly introduce her to the man who'd end up marrying her, and she needed to realize this as quickly as possible.

Colin shook his head at the thought, and then he realized that he had been staring at the same passage for a quarter of an hour. So, he set his jaw, and tried to focus once more.

xxx

Wow, I feel so awful, making Colin into a boring character like that... but believe me, he _needs_ to be like this in order for the story to work. Anyways, do check back next week for my update, and thanks so much for taking the time to read the story!


	4. Vanity

Wow, the Secret Garden _really does_ have a secret... a very large, hidden fandom! I didn't even know that SG fanfics existed until a few weeks ago when I was browsing, and now I just found out that about 400 people have read my story! You guys are amazing =]

xxx

Mary's time back at Misselthwaite was a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand, she dreaded her mornings spent locked up in the manor with Medlock as much as mice dreaded hawks. She was forced to endure hours of listening as the old woman planned out what food would be made for the ball, how much the decorations and orchestra would cost, and made several less than subtle comments on which men she approved of, and which ones she advised Mary to avoid.

After the daily party planning sessions, Medlock watched as Mary practiced her lessons in language, math, etiquette and art. Of course, Medlock herself knew precious little about such things, but as a chaperone she was meant to watch over Mary at all times.

Sometimes, although by no means frequently, Colin would drop in to see their progress. On a few, rare occasions, he was jolly, and he and Mary had fun talking about their old escapades, but still more often he was grave, and only spoke to Mary to correct her mistakes and make suggestions as to how she could improve.

Master Craven, for his part, spent most of his time in his study. He, like Mary, was proud of Colin's accomplishments, but he rather missed his lighthearted boy, and preferred memories of the boy to the grown up workaholic.

On the other hand, afternoons became the most blissful time Mary had ever known. Everyday, the moment Mary finished her lunch, she would change into a plain dress, pull on her work boots and run to the garden as if her life depended on it. And some days, she was almost certain that it did; prolonged time spent with Medlock just _couldn't_ be healthy.

In the garden, she was always greeted by a grinning Dickon, who'd asked Ben Weatherstaff's permission to spend his afternoons tending her garden, rather than assisting him. The old gardener had given his consent, so Dickon and Mary both had their afternoons free to enjoy themselves in their paradise. They were usually alone, although they were occasionally joined by Colin or Ben, but Mary honestly didn't mind.

These were happy times for Mary, as she spent hours weeding, watering and pruning her beloved garden. It was peaceful, and there was no feeling in the world like helping other living things prosper. An even greater attraction than the flowers, though, was Dickon. Mary felt that she could spend forever just talking to him about the moor, animals, and any topic at all, really. After having learned so much at the finishing school, Mary had been afraid that he'd seem childish and dimwitted in conversation. But, on the contrary, when talking to him, she still got the impression that he knew everything there was to know about everything.

For example, a few days ago she'd been complaining to him about the silliness of the old alliances and feuds of Europe, particularly the English / French rivalry, and he'd completely surprised her by defending it:

"Countries aren't no different from birds, Miss Mary. They're all competin' for the best o' everything, the best food, the best territory, the best trees to nest in…it causes rivalry. An' making alliances helps to beat out rivals. Look at Serbia an' Russia. Serbia would'na pose much of a threat to anyone if it did'na have a giant like Russia as an ally. They protect each other like mated birds. An as for England and France, I know it does'na look like it, but I'm fair certain we'd come through for each other if we had to."

Mary blinked. Then she blinked again, causing Dickon to grin, "I've had a bit o' education, tha needn't look so shocked!"

"When? When did you get an education?"

Here, Dickon blushed "Well, Meser Colin's old tutor caught me evesdropin' on one o' his lessons once, and confronted me. We talked, an' he told me I was a bright lad. So, after much negociation an' work on my part, 'e started givin' me some lessons in the evenin's after Colin's. He was a good man, even stayed on to keep teachin' me a couple o' months after Colin left for University."

Mary frowned, "But who paid him?"

"I did, with the money I earned as Ben's 'prentice; he dinna charge too much. Mother always said that there's nothin' in the world more valuable than an education, so I've been spending all of my earnin's on gettin' one."

Mary was incredulous. Why hadn't he ever told her? Still in shock, she asked him, "Dickon… what do you want to do with your life? Do you want to get more education? I'm sure I could convince Uncle Craven to fund you, if -"

Dickon merely laughed and cut her off, "Dinna worry, Miss Mary. I just want to be the head gardener, after Ben."

With a grin, Mary realized that she was very glad he did, for she didn't know how she'd manage to get on if he ever left.

xxx

"Up, get _up,_ Miss Mary!"

With a groan, Mary obeyed Mrs. Medlock and opened her eyes. Waking up had never seemed this hard when she'd been able to run down to her garden in the mornings…

"Good. Now hurry up and get dressed, the tailor will be here any moment."

Still feeling somewhat groggy from sleep, Mary rubbed her eyes, "Tailor?"

"Gracious me, girl, didn't I tell you? The tailor who'll be making your ball gown is going to be coming here this morning, to take your measures and let you pick a design."

Now, all things considered, Mary was, in fact, a young woman. And all young women feel some attraction towards pretty clothes and jewelry at some point in their lives.

Today just happened to be Mary's day, so she quickly got herself ready to meet the tailor. Unfortunately for her, he arrived far later than had been intended, but when he did, Mary forgot all about the wait.

The tailor was a kindly man, who took Mary's measurements so quickly and skillfully that she didn't have time to feel uncomfortable. Then they moved on to the fun part.

First, Mary got to pick the colour of silk she wanted her dress to be, and then she was able to decide on whether or not she wanted it to be patterned. In the end, she opted for a plain, pale blue which reminded her of the moor sky early in the morning. It also reminded her of a certain moorland boy's eyes, but no one needed to know that.

After that she had the chance to see a great number of sketches of the most fashionable dresses of the day. Being a modest girl, she passed over all of the dresses which had shamefully low necklines, but she also didn't want to appear too prude. Then Mary had to decide whether or not she wanted a long train for her dress. The tailor assured her that it was by far the most fashionable style of skirt she could choose, but Mary thought that it looked terribly uncomfortable to walk in. The tailor didn't deny this, which made Mary wonder if he'd had much experience walking in fashionable dresses. Judging from the grimace he gave her when discussing how to turn around in a train, she felt positive that he had. The thought almost made her laugh out loud.

After that matter was settled, Mary noticed another potential problem with the dresses: all of the women in the drawings seemed to have impossibly tiny waists. Mary herself always wore her corsets as loosely as possible, and she didn't think that she'd be able to last an entire night if she was laced up as tightly as the women were. When the tailor finally managed to convince her that she wouldn't have to be tied in _too_ tightly, they moved on to the important topic of sleeves. Following that was the collar…

Finally, after much debate, a design was chosen. But then there were the trimmings to think of. And the jewelry! Oh, and what hairstyle would best suit her and the dress? And then, of course, there were shoes and gloves and hats and many other little nuances without which the outfit simply wouldn't be complete.

Long story short, it was well past noon when Mary had finally finished with the tailor, but it was only after he was long gone that Mary noticed the time. Mentally admonishing herself for forgetting, she put on her sun hat and sauntered down the long path to the gardens.

As she walked, she found herself practicing what she was going to say to Dickon, to apologize for being late. She knew that he wouldn't be angry with her no matter what she said, but she wanted him to know that she really _was_ sorry for not coming.

So, with her best apology on the tip of her tongue, she opened the door to the garden.

But Dickon wasn't there.

Quite taken aback, Mary took a more careful look around. Perhaps he was in a tree? Behind a bush? Behind her waiting to jump out and surprise her?

But Mary couldn't find him anywhere. Sighing, she picked up her garden tools, and began to half heartedly clear some weeds, but she soon found that her disappointment at not seeing Dickon kept her from enjoying herself.

Besides, Mary thought, getting worried, it wasn't like him to not show up without leaving her a note or some indication of where he was. Something was amiss.

Or perhaps… perhaps he had just left because he knew she'd forgotten him. He had probably realized that she was too busy for him that day, and left.

Realizing how daft she was being, and that he couldn't possibly have known, Mary shook her head at her own thoughts. He'd be back tomorrow, and she'd ask him where he'd been then. With this in mind, she trudged back towards the manor. Being in the garden all alone seemed to depress her more than being alone in the manor.


	5. Where he was

Truth be told, I don't really like this chapter. At all. But, as you'll see, it's neccesary, so do read it =]

xxx

The day following the dress fitting was grey and dismal. The thick blanket of black clouds covering the sky left no trace of blue, and left nearly no trace of hope in Mary's heart. If it rained, then Medlock was almost certain to keep her from going out to see Dickon, and Mary just _had_ to see him today. She _had_ to know why he'd been away the day before, and apologize if it was her fault.

"Miss Mary, pay _attention_ will you? You're even _worse_ than you usualy are today, you know that?"

Mary, who had completely forgotten what she was supposed to be doing, looked down and saw some sewing in her lap. Oh yes… Medlock had been helping her improve her less than perfect stitches. Fantastic.

"Sorry Mrs. Medlock, but I just can't seem to concentrate."

The woman gave a small huff, "_That_ much is obvious. But I'd have thought you'd be glad today. Rain means that you won't have to water that garden of yours, doesn't it?"

"I suppose you're right." Mary said quietly. Explaining to Medlock that it wasn't her garden she was worried about at all, was out of the question. So, she tried to hide her anxiety by focusing as hard on the sewing as she possibly could, without going cross-eyed.

All the same, she couldn't help glancing out the window every few minutes, to make sure that it hadn't started pouring down. And when lunch arrived she was even more fidgety than normal. She very nearly jumped out of her chair when the servant carrying her food entered, and her first comment to her was, "Who are _you_?"

"I'm Lou May, Miss Mary."

"Where's Martha?"

"She did'na come in today."

"Why? I want her", Mary growled in her sternest voice. She knew that she was acting spoilt and contrary, but she was in a foul mood and didn't really care.

"I dinna know, and I have to go. S-sorry, M'am.", and with that the maid hastily left the room. And the moment she did, Mary began shoveling food into her mouth as quickly as she could; she had to finish before it started raining. Manners be darned.

"Miss Mary, slow down! You're eating like a savage!"

"See if I care!" Mary cried defiantly, but the effect was rather spoilt as she said it through a mouthful of bread. She finished the meal in less than five minutes flat, and then she left her scandalized chaperone to bolt to her garden. Medlock sat in a daze, staring at Mary's now empty chair, for a good ten minutes afterwards, not quite sure if the girl had really been as rude as she was.

Mary, for her part, ran all the way to the garden, ignoring the small droplet of water that fell from the sky and onto her nose. And the one that hit her cheek as she opened the garden door…

But Dickon _still_ wasn't there.

Mary felt her stomach clench uncomfortably as she remembered that Martha hadn't come to the manor that day either. Nor had Lizzy, or any of the Sowerbys.

What was wrong?

Mary searched around the garden once more, with the feeble hope that Dickon was just hiding, but she found nothing.

It wasn't until two days later, exactly a week before her grand ball, that Mary saw Dickon again.

By that time, she had very nearly given up on him, so she was completely stunned when she walked into the garden and saw him crouching over of the rosebushes. But there he was, and he slowly turned around to look at her when he heard her enter.

Now, Mary had been about to give him a sound scolding for leaving her, but it died on her lips when she saw his expression. He looked completely careworn, tired and anxious, as if he'd been awake and panicking for the past few days. For the first time in her life, Mary saw dark circles beneath his blue eyes.

Rushing to his side, Mary exclaimed, "What's wrong? Where were you?"

Dickon let the spade he was holding fall from his hand, and stood up to face her.

"It's 'Lizabeth Ellen", he said in a dead tone, "She's fallen ill - can 'ardly breathe for coughin' - an' Mother does'na know what to do. I've been to town an' called a doctor, but he said he will'na be here for a long while. He's had to leave town for a more _well payin' _patient." Dickon practically spat the last part out, and Mary didn't think she'd ever seen such contempt in his eyes. "I stayed with Lizzy for the past few days, but I dinna today because Mother told me to go out an' get some fresh air. She's a'feared that Lizzy's contagious an' she thinks I'm too worried, but I canna help worryin' and I'm… I'm afraid, Mary."

His blue eyes _wer_e full of fear, as they locked on hers. Instinctively, Mary took his hand and held it tightly, "Don't worry, Dickon, I'll get Colin. He'll know what to do. Wait right here!"

And with that Mary took off, running towards the manor. She didn't think she'd ever run quite as fast as she was now, still she pushed herself to go faster. Fear for Lizzy gave her the stamina to sprint all the way there.

When she arrived, looking disheveled and panting hard, she asked the first maid she saw where she could find Colin.

"In his study, Miss Mary…"

Ignoring the maid's bemusement, Mary thanked her, and hurried to the study. Without bothering to knock, she threw open the door and let herself in. "Colin! I need you to come with me right away, I –"

Mary froze as she realized that Colin was not alone. There was another young man in the room with him. He was clearly one of Colin's distinguished friends from school, and he looked rather affronted at the sight of the wild, wind blown girl.

"Er, hello there, Mary. I was rather hoping you'd turn up. This is –"

"Look, Colin, I don't have time! I _need_ your help." She looked at him beseechingly, and his grey eyes softened.

"Excuse us for a moment, Rupert." He said to his friend apologetically as he and Mary left the room. The moment the door closed behind them, Mary started speaking in a low but urgent voice, "I'm truly sorry for making a bad impression on your friend, Colin, but this could be a matter of life or death. Dickon's sister, 'Lizabeth Ellen in very sick, and needs a doctor _right away_. Oh, please say you'll come!"

Colin blinked, trying to register all she'd said at once, then he sighed. "Of course I'll come. But what about Rupert? He's come all the way from London to see me. Could you–"

"Keep him company? Of course I will. But mind you go to the garden and tell Dickon where I am on your way to the cottage."

"I'll bring him with me."

Overcome by emotion, Mary threw her arms around her cousin in a warm hug, and he hugged her back, saying, "Alright, alright, that's enough, Mary. Now, mind _you_ tidy yourself up a bit before going back to see Rupert."

"Of course."

And with that, Colin left Mary to smooth down her hair, fix her dress and wipe her damp eyes.

"Ah, and you must be Mary", Rupert greeted as she re-entered Colin's study, "A pleasure to meet you, I'm Rupert Heists."

With a hint of amusement in his brown eyes, the young man held out his hand to her, and she amiably shook it, saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, I'm sure."

Taking a closer look at his pretty hostess, Rupert frowned, "Is it really? Because, and I mean this is the most polite way possible, you don't exactly _look_ like it is. What's the matter? Does it have anything to do with your, ahem, grand entrance?"

Mary debated telling the truth, but in the end she decided that there was no real reason why she shouldn't. "Yes, actually, it does. You see, my gardener's little sister has fallen very ill, and Colin is the only doctor for miles. So, I needed him to get out to her cottage as quickly as possible. I'd quite forgotten that he was having company today, or perhaps I wouldn't have been so hasty."

Rupert was quite impressed; how many ladies were compassionate enough to care so much for their gardener's sisters? Not many, he imagined. Besides, In his opinion, when she had run in she'd looked even more beautiful than she did now, more wild, with a pink blush in her fair cheeks and her eyes bright with excitement. When he told her this, she blushed again.

"Now Mary", he said after she had looked away with embarrassment, "Why don't you tell me why you care so much for this poor girl."

Although Mary personally felt that this was a rather impertinent question, she answered it, "Her brother, my gardener, is a very dear friend of mine, and he'd be heartbroken if anything happened to her. Moreover, she's a very sweet girl, and I'd probably be devastated if she died as well."

Thinking of poor Lizzy Ellen, sick in bed and pale as Colin had been when she'd first met him dampened Mary's eyes again, which compelled Rupert to say, "Here, why don't I take you down to the cottage in _my _carriage. You can show me the way."

This idea elated Mary, and she smiled at him; the first time she'd ever given him a genuine smile. "Oh, _thank you!_ I don't know how I could ever repay you!"

Rupert merely smiled back at her, and in his head he came up with numerous ways for her to repay him, none of which his friend Colin would likely approve of.

xxx

Now, I'd say that the story's about half over now… I'm planning for at least ten chapters, but that may change. Anyways, thanks for reading and check back next week =]


	6. Bears

When Mary and Rupert reached the Sowerby's cottage, Mary was shocked at how empty it seemed. She'd remembered it as always being full of life and teaming with wild, rosy cheeked children, but now there wasn't a soul in sight.

She carefully stepped out of the carriage and let her eyes run over the barren yard. Then, mustering up some courage, she proceeded to the cottage door, and knocked.

It was Dickon who answered the door, and he looked even wearier than he had when she'd last seen him. He was so weary, in fact, that he didn't even bother looking surprised to see her. "Come in, Miss Mary", he said in an uncharacteristically a lifeless tone, then he noticed the man standing behind her, "Thy friend can come too, I suppose".

"How is she?" Mary asked, voice trembling, as she stepped inside the small house, "Does Colin know what to do?"

Dickon felt his throat constricting, "N- not yet. He does'na even know what's wrong with 'er as yet. C-come with me"

After choking out his words, Dickon turned and led Mary up the narrow stairway to the second floor. Not really caring whether Rupert was following her or not, Mary stayed close behind him.

When they arrived in Lizzy's bedroom, Mary's hand flew to her mouth to conceal her gasp of horror.

The normally rosy girl was pale as a ghost, yet covered in sweat. Her always neat hair was a wild tangle about her face, and her breathing came out in painful wheezes. Her eyes were closed, as if she was sleeping, but she would frequently have fits of coughing, twitching and lashing out at Colin and her mother, who were leaning over her bed.

Both of them were wearing masks and gloves, and Colin was busy taking the girl's temperature.

"She's got a very high fever. How long has she had it?"

"It's been two days now, Meser Colin."

He nodded, and then pulled a new tongue depressor from his bag. Holding her face firmly with one hand, he managed to hold her tongue down long enough to get a good look inside her mouth.

"Very swollen, sore throat, looks like there's a great deal of phlegm and…hang on, what's this?"

Colin leaned in to get a closer look at Lizzy's tongue. "Bright red… like a strawberry…", he muttered to himself, "That can only mean…" Then he turned to face Mrs. Sowerby and said, "Scarlet fever. And it's a nasty case too, highly contagious. You'll have to keep her away from your other children. I'll visit her again tomorrow, maybe give her some belladonna, but there's not much more I can do for her now."

Mary could see tears in Mrs. Sowerby's eyes, and when she started pleading through her mask, begging Colin to help her, Mary felt that she could no longer bring herself to watch. She let herself outside, and was surprised to find Dickon already sitting on the house steps.

"Dickon?"

She couldn't help but notice that he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve before turning to face her, and wasn't surprised to see that his face was lightly tear stained.

When he saw her looking at him with concern, he swallowed hard, "Sorry Miss Mary, but I'm no' in the mood for talk."

Ignoring him, Mary sat down on the steps beside him, "Where is everyone?" She inquired softly.

Instead of facing her, he turned to stare off into the distance as he answered, "Martha's workin' at the manor, and Mother sent the young un's off to play on the moor. She did'na want anyone else catchin' it."

Mary had never heard such misery in the boy's voice. Dickon had always been the peaceful, cheery one, who's soft and gentle ways helped her to feel better when she was down. Now that he was the one in need of cheering, Mary decided that it was her turn to help him feel better. "Dickon?"

"Yes?"

"Don't worry, don't you worry about a thing. Lizzy's a strong girl. After all, she's been breathing fresh moor air all her life like you. You once told me that it was the best medicine in the world, so she'll make it through."

Dickon only nodded, so Mary tried again, "Don't you remember Colin? Everyone was sure that he'd die too. Now he's as healthy as you or me."

This only earned her another nod. Was the boy even listening to her? "Dickon._ Listen to me_, everything is going to be _fine_."

He didn't even bother nodding this time, he just kept on staring off into the distance, and Mary was starting to feel very exasperated with him.

"Oh, _canna tha_ _see I'm tryin' to_ _cheer thee up_!" she cried out loudly. She'd always felt that Yorkshire was better for expressing emotions than perfect English, but she was rather out of practice using it. So, it sounded rather twisted and uncomfortable on her tongue.

And although Mary wasn't pleased with how it had turned out, Dickon certainly was. He finally turned to face her, and grinned, "That was'na fair, Mary. Tha knows I canna resist when tha speak thy graidely Yorkshire."

Completely elated by her success, Mary grinned back at him. She'd been sorely missing his grin for the past few days, and she didn't want it going away too soon. So, she pressed on, "I'll have to remember tha', the next time tha'rt upset about summat. I dinna like it when thy smile goes off…erm…dancin' with the… bears?"

This time Dickon laughed outright, "When my smile goes off _dancin' with the bears_? I know I'm always talkin' 'bout my animals, but I did'na think I was so bad as tha'!"

Mary gave him a sheepish smile, "You're not. I've no idea what compelled me to say that."

Gently putting his arm around her shoulders, Dickon smiled gratefully," But I'm glad tha did; it's cheered me up plenty. Now, wouldst tha like to walk 'round the vegetable garden wi' me? I reckon sittin' here'll just depress us again."

Mary, whose heart had started beating twice as fast as it normally did the moment Dickon's arm had made contact with the skin at the nape of her neck, quickly agreed, and the two walked off to discuss when, and when not life could be compared to bears.

xxx

Feeling heavy hearted, Colin left the patients room. He found his friend Rupert sitting in his carriage, reading a book he'd brought, but he couldn't seem to find his cousin.

Scanning the field around the cottage, Colin finally spotted her in the family's vegetable patch with Dickon. They were walking up and down the rows of crops, talking and laughing as they always had together. But something about the way Mary was looking at the young man was different than it used to be. It wasn't a significant change, it was just… her eyes were a tad brighter than normal when he smiled at her, and when he looked away from her there was a trace of something like… _longing_, in her expression. Or was Colin just imagining things?

Setting his jaw, he walked over to them. It was late, and he had to drive his cousin home.

As he approached, Dickon's smile faded. "How is she? Colin, will she make it?"

Colin couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with the earnest young man, "Nothing is certain yet. I shall be back tomorrow to check on her again. Now Mary, we have to go."

She nodded, and turned to Dickon to say goodbye, and reassure him that Lizzy would be fine. Then she followed Colin into his carriage.

It was only when they had left the cottage far behind that she spoke. "Colin, scarlet fever has no cure. If her immune system can't fight it, she'll surely die, right?"

Colin nodded

"So, can she fight it? Will she live?"

Colin swallowed hard. "I don't believe so."

"Don't believe so!" Mary cried, "But…she _has_ to make it, she just has to! Her family would miss her so, and Dickon's heart would break."

Suddenly, Colin felt incredibly annoyed with her. "Dickon? Why is it _always _about Dickon?"

Mary felt confused by his outbreak, "Well, obviously Martha and the others would be upset too, but –"

"But you didn't mention 'Martha and the others' did you? No, your first thought was about _Dickon_."

Mary had never seen her cousin say Dickon's name with such contempt, and it bothered her, "Colin, I only meant –"

"We both know _perfectly well_ what you meant, Mary", Colin spat at her, "You're… you're in love with him."

There, he had said it. Because, quite honestly, the girl needed to hear it. Colin had never dreamed that his cousin would fall in love with a gardener, but now that she had, he had to set her straight. He couldn't allow her to marry Dickon; they'd be forced to by a little cottage on the moor, and live on his meager earnings. And the family name would become mud.

Colin was no longer as hot headed as he'd been as a boy, but going to London had taught him that respect was hard to get, and easy to lose. And he meant to keep his dignity. His _and_ his cousin's.

Mary, who'd been silent all of this time, looking out of her window, finally spoke, "Perhaps I am, Colin. But if I am… I'm not sorry."

"You're _not sorry_!"

The soon to be doctor spent the rest of the journey lecturing Miss Mary on why she couldn't love the gardener, and when that failed, he was forced to resort to desperate measures; "Look Mary, if you don't forget about this silly crush of yours, I'll just have to tell Medlock and my father about it. And there's no telling what _they'll_ do. Father would probably ship you right back to London, and Medlock would send all of the Sowerby's away, if she could. So _forget him_."

By this time, they had arrived back at Misselthwaite manor, so Mary just got out of the carriage without a word and ran to her room.

xxx

As usual, thanks for reading! Oh, and please leave a review if you can =]


	7. Rain

Now, Mary may seem really immature in this chapter, but remember; she's only sixteen! Plus, she's going through emotional trauma etc...

Also, I wrote this chapter when I was feeling really depressed about the constant rain here, and having a bad cold, and I'm afraid my misery really got transferred into my words. But, as Mary's feeling about as horrible as I did, I guess it fits =]

xxx

The minute Mary was alone in her room, she threw herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow and burst into desperate tears. Without meaning to, she dug her fingernails into its soft stuffing and let her sorrows escape her in sobs.

How had she let this happen? How could she possibly have been stupid enough to forget that she and Dickon could never be together?

She should have known, from the moment she had first given in to instinct and kissed him on the cheek, that her feelings for him were not the same as they had been two years ago. But no, she had just told herself that the kiss meant nothing. And then, when she'd finally realized that the warm, comfortable feeling she got in her stomach whenever he looked at her couldn't just be friendship, she'd still not acted. She hadn't tried to suppress her feelings, no. She'd just tried her very best to conceal her feelings from the world, from Dickon, and whenever possibly, herself.

What had she been thinking? That if she hid her love for him long enough everything would work itself out? That her feelings for him would just go away?

If weeds were ignored, they didn't just go away. They grew. And Mary's feelings had grown to a point where it was impossible to deny that… she was in love with Dickon. Hopelessly in love with a moor lad.

Mary let out a loud scream of frustration and misery into her pillow, then she flung the hated article against her wall with as much strength as she could muster. She wanted to make it shatter into a million tiny pieces, whether it could or not; it had no right being so fluffy and indifferent when she was so wretched.

Just then, she heard a loud knock at her locked door, and a stern voice, "Miss Mary, open this door this instant!"

It was Medlock, and Mary had absolutely no desire to see the dratted woman, "Make me!"

"Miss Mary, you're not in your right mind right now. You need –"

"I _need_ for you to go away! I want to be left alone. You can bother me tomorrow."

When there was no response, Mary tip-toed to the front of the room, and put her ear to the door. It wasn't until she heard a loud sigh, and then retreating footsteps that she crept back to her bed. That night, she cried herself to sleep, and for the first time in several years, her dreams were haunted with flashes of her mother.

Mary hadn't dreamed about her mother since she'd been a young child, but now she saw her appear with a vivid clarity before her eyes. She was standing in front of the door to the secret garden, wearing a fashionable blue dress that was full of lace and dripping with frills, and a matching sun hat. She smiled at Mary, looking almost ethereally beautiful with her laughing eyes and perfect smile, and then she pulled a key from her sleeve with a white gloved hand. With her other hand, she reached out for the handle of the garden's open door.

Then she began slowly closing the door. She was locking the garden up again.

When Mary realized this, she tried to scream out, to beg her not to do it. But loud as she screamed, her mother couldn't' hear her. Mary shrieked at the top of her lungs, pleading for her mother to stop; she didn't think she could bear life without the garden as her sanctuary. The raucous sound of her own voice was why it took her so long to hear the male voice coming from inside the garden. It was Dickon, and he was begging her mother to stop as well. "Please! Tha canna do this, it'd ruin the magic forever! Please stop!"

Mary's mother ignored him as she pulled the door closed. Inserting the key in its hole with a smile, she started to turn it. Mary stopped screaming to better hear Dickon, and what she heard nearly stopped her heart:

"Please, dinna do this! Dinna trap me here! _Mary_!"

With a jolt, Mary realized that it wasn't her mother locking the door, it was herself. And she was laughing softly as she locked Dickon into the garden forever.

xxx

Mary woke up covered in sweat, and with only the vaguest idea of what she'd dreamt about. All she knew was that it had been very unpleasant, and that she was very much glad that it had ended.

Stretching her arms above her head, she soon became aware that someone was repeatedly knocking on her door, "Miss Mary, it's nearly eight o' clock! You need to come out of there."

Feeling rather sluggish and not at all well rested, Mary pulled herself out of bed and opened her door. The first thing her sleepy eyes met when she did, was Mrs. Medlock, and _her_ eyes were full of disapproval.

"Mary, there are only _three_ days left to prepare for your ball, and you're not even dressed yet. Hurry up and get yourself ready, then meet me in the ballroom."

Mary, who felt almost too tired for words, just nodded her head. Then she closed her door, donned a new dress and forced her protesting hair into a somewhat neat bun.

Finally, she took a closer look at her mirror to appraise her reflection. "You look awful, Mary", she whispered to herself, "Truly horrendous."

She had dark circles beneath her tear stained and puffy eyes, and her face showed all of the misery she felt. But despite this, no other person could have called her appearance 'horrendous'. Mary had finally started to look like her lovely mother, and though she wasn't aware of it, she looked stunning even now.

Not that she'd believe anyone if they told her that. And at the moment, she likely wouldn't have cared.

That morning soon became one of the most miserable of her entire life. Medlock was even stricter with her than usual, because of her unruly behavior the night before, and she treated Mary with complete contempt. Colin refused to speak to Mary at all, except to tell her that "the gardener's sister hasn't improved".

But the absolute worst part of that day was the rain. It rained all day, with unrelenting sheets of water crashing against all windows. It was as if the rain wanted to keep Mary from forgetting that she'd not be able to see Dickon that day, and that Colin would probably keep her from seeing him when the sun came out as well.

When Medlock had finally released Mary from her lessons, Mary didn't know what to do with herself. So, she settled for simply trudging back to her room, closing the door, and staring out her window at the storm. She gazed intently, as if memorizing the patterns the raindrops made as they chased each other down the glass pane, and tried to forget about what had happened the day before.

Some would consider this a massive waste of time, but Mary just couldn't bring herself to do anything productive. After all, everything she wanted was outside, well beyond her reach.

The following day was brighter, and Mary found this heartening. She dressed herself quickly and went down to breakfast earlier than usual.

She arrived in the dining hall before anyone else, ate her fill, and then decided to get a head start on her daily lessons.

She'd been working on her French pronunciations for about an hour before Medlock showed up. The old woman almost smiled when she saw how much better Mary looked, and they spent a peaceful, almost agreeable morning reviewing the details for her party together. Then, at around 11:00 :

"Alright Mary, as I can see that you've been trying your best to be proper today" Medlock started with a smile that was only a tad mocking, "I'll let you go out to your garden early. But mind you come back for lunch."

And with those simple words, she made Mary feel so glad, she almost wanted to hug the old woman. "Oh, I will, don't worry! Thank you!" Then Mary flew to the garden.

xxx

As she hurried through the manor grounds, Mary took deep breaths of the moor air. Nothing in the world smelled nicer than the moor after a heavy rainfall. Well, almost nothing…

When Mary reached the door to her garden, she was horrified that she'd somehow find it locked. But, to her immense relief, the handle turned smoothly under Mary's hand and opened.

The garden looked fine, much as it had when she'd left it, but for some reason, as Mary walked in she felt an acute sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. It didn't take her long to find out why.

Dickon wasn't in the garden, but he'd left her a messily scrawled note pinned above her gardening tools:

_Lizzy will be leaving us soon. Send Colin, but do not come. You could catch it._

Needless to say, Mary ran to the Manor as quickly as her legs could carry her.


	8. Belief

Bit of a shorter chapter, this one. But I didn't want to draw it out any further than I already did, so I left it. Hope you like it =]

xxx

When Colin arrived at the Sowerby's little cottage, any onlooker would have said that he looked completely indifferent and disconnected from the house. There could have been nothing farther from the truth.

In reality, Colin, at the time, was a complete jumble of mixed emotions. He felt complete empathy for the Sowerby family, wretchedness from how desolate Mary had looked as she'd handed him Dickon's note, and a healthy dose of self pity. After all, 'Lizabeth Ellen Sowerby was his first ever patient, and there was a very great chance that she was going to die very soon. And his cousin, who wanted to disgrace the family name forever, acted as if it was partially his fault.

How was that just, in any sense of the word?

Sighing, Colin let himself into the little cottage. In the foyer, he found Dickon, Martha and Mrs. Sowerby waiting for him, and for a moment none of them spoke. Then, Mrs. Sowerby whispered, "She's upstairs, tryin' to get some sleep."

Swallowing hard, Colin nodded, and climbed up to the girl's room. When he got there, he wasn't surprised to see that Lizzy looked even worse than he'd thought she would.

Her cheeks were flushed and slick with her own sweat, her hair, which had been gently braided for her, was coming undone and tendrils of it hung all around her, but the most striking part of her appearance was her wide, blood shot eyes.

When Colin walked in, she didn't turn to face him. She just continued to stare up at her ceiling, as if willing it to collapse upon her. Silently praying that she wouldn't die at his hands, Colin approached her bed and leaned over her.

Her eyes passed over him indifferently; she didn't recognize him. Then she continued staring at the ceiling. Colin, for his part, was completely at a loss of what to say. Several moments passed, and then Lizzy closed her eyes and went into a fitful sleep.

As Colin watched her little form tremble and occasionally lash out, he wasn't sure whether he should leave or stay. As a medical student, he felt that is was his obligation not to leave a violently ill patient. However, he also knew that his presence would have little to no effect on the girl. Scarlet fever could not be cured.

All the same, Colin decided that he should do all he could for her, because she had reached a critical stage and likely hadn't much time left. He put cold, damp towels, which Mrs. Sowerby had provided, on her forehead to lessen her fever, changed them every few minutes, and gave her small doses of belladonna. He watched as Mrs. Sowerby came in and fed Lizzy as much dinner as the girl would let her, and hoped that the blank, dazed look on her little face would go away. She didn't recognize her own mother.

After eating dinner, Lizzy went back to the turbulent tossing and turning that composed her sleep. Colin was still unsure of why he hadn't left when she woke up, a few hours later.

This time, there was some vague awareness in her eyes, and she looked confused to see Colin leaning over her and replacing the lukewarm towel on her forehead with a fresh, cold one.

She blinked, and then asked, "Who are you?"

Colin, who had never really talked to the girl before, said, "I'm your doctor, for now."

"Oh."

Lizzy frowned, considering this. Biting her lip, she then asked in a timid voice, "Am I… am I goin' to die?"

Her innocent brown eyes bored into Colin's and he found himself at a complete loss for words. "Er, well, it's too early to… um… make any predictions on that… at the moment."

To his complete surprise, Lizzy seemed completely unfazed by his response. She just quietly looked at him, scanning his face in a most unnerving fashion. Then she asked, "What is your name?"

Whatever question Colin had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that. "It's Colin, Colin Craven."

A smile broke out on the girl's face. "Really? Oh, good! I'd thought it was you, I just knew it somehow, and I _am_ glad."

She was _glad_?

"Why?" a completely frazzled Colin managed to stammer out. Why should this girl he'd never met be glad to see him? Given her condition, he was amazed that she was glad about anything.

"Why? Well, you've got _Magic_ in you."

The nearly sixteen year old girl said this in a completely matter-of-fact-tone, and Colin' could hardly believe his ears. Had the illness somehow addled her brain? "What? I'm sure I don't know what you–"

Lizzy frowned, "Of course you do! Magic helped tha learn to walk, and helped tha feel better when they said that you'd die! Magic made you well again."

Colin felt an acute ache in his stomach as the girl talked of his childhood. He'd tried _so_ hard to forget that he'd been an invalid, that he'd almost succeeded in erasing the dark memories. He'd told none of his posh school friends of his unusual childhood, and had feigned indifference whenever Mary brought it up. He'd done such a good job removing that part of himself and of convincing himself that he'd lead a perfectly healthy and respectable childhood, that nothing in the world could have made him more uncomfortable than the current circumstances.

"Colin?"

He blinked, and realized that he'd become completely lost in thought. Once she had his attention again, Lizzy said, "If Magic made tha well, then it will also cure me. I know it; Dickon said that tha were the most magical boy he knew."

Swallowing hard with guilt, Colin almost didn't know what to say. Perhaps the magic of fresh Yorkshire air and secret gardens had been enough to cure him, or perhaps it was only his belief that he _could_ get better that cured him. Whatever it was, he sure didn't have it now. Whatever it was, it didn't make him magical, and he couldn't give it to the girl. "Lizzy, listen. Dickon's more magical than I ever was. I'm… I'm just a medical student, who never really was ill. I just needed a push to get me going, that's all."

She shook her head, and reached out to take his hand. "Your Magic will make me well, I _know_ it. And 'I shall live for ever and ever and ever'"

And that was the last word on the matter, for then Lizzy closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. Soon, her breathing slowed and became steady, and Colin was amazed; she was sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks.

The distinguished young Mr. Craven, who was still holding her hand in his own, felt something in his heart that day, something he hadn't felt since he'd gone to university. It was belief. Seeing Lizzy's health improve just by her believing that it would, gave him hope. It rekindled the childish belief he'd had that the Magic of the garden and moor could fix anything. He smiled and held Lizzy's hand tighter.

Perhaps he ought to go back to the garden again… maybe he'd see something he'd not noticed before. Something that had been painfully clear when he'd been ten, but that he hadn't been able to find as of late. It was what Mary and Dickon took from the garden so effortlessly, and what they'd been trying to show him for weeks. It was Magic.

Colin was so deeply lost in thought as he sat by Lizzy's bed, clutching her hand, that he didn't notice when the door behind him opened a crack, or when a curly haired person peeked inside.

xxx

Dickon had seen many beautiful moments in his life; the hatching of eggs, the first steps of a baby deer, the first steps of Colin, and when Mary had kissed him on the cheek weeks ago, but he was fair certain that he was looking at something even more beautiful unfolding.

The way Colin was looking at his sister could only be described as tender, and he was gently stroking her hair. Something magical was growing in that room, and Dickon was glad of it, he truly was.

But a small, horrid, part of himself was not enjoying the scene. It felt a sharp sense of loneliness and longing as it watched Colin and Lizzy, and Dickon had to look away.


	9. Magic

Alright here's a longer chapter, but it's my favourite one so I hope you enjoy it. And if you're going to review any chapter in my story, please make it this one. I tried to make it perfect, but that didn't work out, so I'd like any criticism you've got =]

xxx

Dread. Apprehension. Self pity. Repressed desire. Hopelessness. Helplessness. Misery. None of these feelings were ever nice ones, and Mary was going through them all at once as she tried to force herself asleep.

Colin had left around noon, and he still wasn't back. Mary knew that this was likely not a good sign, and that was where her dread came from. She also knew that he might burst into her room any minute and announce that Lizzy had died. That was the apprehension.

Her self pity was a result of repressed desire. She was in love with a boy who was barred from her by convention, society and her cousin. And the worst part of it all was... he didn't even seem to realize what he was doing to her. Dickon didn't even know that she loved him.

She'd almost lost all hope that things would somehow sort themselves out; there was just _no way_. Dickon was a gardener, and she, despite her deepest wishes, was a young lady of high society. Not only that, but a young lady of high society who, in a matter of days, would be attending her own ball to choose a groom from a selection of stuffy young pansies. And there was nothing she could do about it. Hence the helplessness and misery.

These were the thoughts that turned over and over in Mary's mind as she tried to get some sleep. But she soon found that all effort was futile.

Sitting up, she idly looked around her room. It was just as stuffy and respectable as any other lady's room, and it stifled her. It seemed to be telling her that she'd soon _become_ just like other young ladies, and just like her mother; proper, sociable and heartless. Mary couldn't take it.

So, she slipped out of bed, pulled on a warm dress on top of her night gown, and some boots. Then she tip-toed out of the ever gloomy manor and into the night.

Her first thought, as she looked around the moor at night, was that it was amazingly bright. The moon was nearly full and glowing, and she could see more than double the amount of stars that she'd ever been able to see in London.

The night sky calmed her, as did the cool air against her flushed cheeks. Drinking it all in as she went, Mary walked to her garden.

She chose to go there more from habit than anything else, but when she reached the secret garden, she instantly knew why she'd come: it was the Magic. She could feel it that night, strong as it had been the day she'd first unlocked the ivy covered door.

As she entered the garden, Mary felt as if she was in some sort of wonderful trance; she felt a sort of peace and clarity she'd been unable to find inside. She was home.

The good feelings did not last, though. Her troubles quickly caught up with her, and Mary soon found herself pouring her heart out to an audience composed of just the flowers and trees:

"I - I don't know if there truly is any Magic here, or if I've become to old to understand it" she began uncertainly, "But I _really_ need any help I can get right now. Dickon's sister Lizzy – she's come here a few times to help the flowers grow – well, she's sick. Very sick; she might die. Actually, Colin is almost certain of it. He's… he's really changed. I hardly know him anymore, and he seems as though he's been trying to forget me, as if I were just an obligation. And it really hurts, when he only talks to me when it's absolutely unavoidable, and I don't know _how _to please him. If I tried, I'd lose myself, and I'd lose all hope of being with Dickon. I'm… well, I'm completely in love with him, but I can't be. But I can't stop! Oh, please help me, I don't know what I 'm going to do…"

By this time, Mary had realized that she had been rambling, and stopped for breath. Then, with slightly damp eyes, she continued, "I'm going to be forced to marry some other man if I don't change things soon. I'll have to be a quiet, obedient wife and leave all I love behind. And Dickon will never even know… please, _please_ help me. Please, please, please…"

Years later, Mary could never remember exactly when she had drifted off to sleep on one of the garden's benches. All she knew was that the last thing she had heard a serene voice whisper to her, "Do not worry…"

Or perhaps it had just been the wind wuthering.

xxx

Dickon had always loved walking on the moor at night. The sights, the sounds and even the _smells_ were different at night, in their own subtle but beautiful way. He heard a hungry owl softly hooting as it flew over head, and the music of countless crickets chirping from their hideaways in the bushes.

With a soft smile, Dickon continued on.

He'd decided to give up his spot on a bed for Lou May, who would have had to sleep on the floor otherwise. She normally slept beside Lizzy, but now that was out of the question.

Mrs. Sowerby had protested when he'd left, offering him to take her own bed while she stayed awake, but Dickon had assured her that he wasn't at all tired. And that was absolutely true. For some reason, sleep had evaded him that night. So, here he was, going to the garden. Mary's garden.

When he finally reached there and opened the door, he was stunned by what he saw; Mary Lennox was fast asleep and lightly snoring, lying awkwardly on a rough wooden bench. Or at least, that's what any other person would have seen.

What Dickon saw was a beautiful fairy queen. Her bed was set against a backdrop of willowy rose trees in full bloom, and surrounded by fragrant wild flowers and rose bushes, whose beauty only added to her own. The silvery moonshine rendered her pale and ethereal with perfect dark waves of hair framing her face. Dickon felt as if he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He walked up to her even more reverently than he would have had he been approaching a robin's nest. Then he kneeled by her bench and gave in to the temptation to brush a stray strand of hair off her face. Her eyes opened.

"Dickon?"

He blushed, and Mary smiled; she'd never seen him look so embarrassed.

"Beggin' thy pardon, Miss Mary, I – I dinna mean to…er…" He ran a hand through his curls nervously.

Mary only smiled wider as she sat up, "Oh, don't worry, it's alright. I shouldn't have been here anyways."

"What_ was _tha doin' out here so late, if tha doesna mind my askin' ?"

"I was…" Mary wasn't sure how to answer. What exactly _had_ she been doing? "I was looking for Magic."

This made Dickon grin, as he took a seat beside her on the bench, "Well, didst tha find any?"

"I think I did…" she responded quietly, and Dickon's grin faded into a soft smile, " O' course tha did. The moor air breathes magic. That's what helps thy garden bloom as it does, and what helps the animals thrive here. Magic, just plain magic."

Mary smiled back at him. Then, not really caring how childish she sounded, she asked, "Dickon, are _you_ magic?"

Grinning, he replied with, "I reckon we all are."

Mary shook her head; that wasn't what she meant. "But you're the _only_ one who can talk to animals, and charm plants out of the ground, and my heart _only_ beats faster when _you're_ around. When you're around I… I feel safer, _warmer_, like I never want to leave. That _must_ be magic, right?"

She was leaning towards him, her dark eyes locked on his. She gazed searchingly into his blue orbs, and finally saw her own feelings mirrored in them; he loved her.

Mary started to lean in closer, and slid her arms around his neck, but just before her mouth made contact with his, she heard him whisper, "Mary, I dinna think we should do this."

At that she merely smiled, and leaned in closer, murmuring, "I dinna think we can stop."

Now, saintly as Dickon tried to be, he was still a teenage boy. And when a teenage boy's crush whispers something sweet into his lips, he is never, ever able to resist her.

Dickon put his arms around Mary and pulled her closer.

For Mary, kissing Dickon was even better than she'd dreamed it'd be. His lips moved gently against hers, and his warm breath smelled like the moor. And when she tangled her fingers in his curls and pulled him even closer, he'd kissed her so passionately and insistently that she moaned his name into his mouth.

Then they broke apart, both quite breathless, and remained in each other's arms. Mary loved how he held her; tenderly, as if she were a delicate bird. Sighing with contentment, she rested her head on his shoulder.

His voice floated over to her as if from a dream, "Mary?"

"Mmmhmmm?"

"We could both get in some real trouble for doin' that."

She sighed, "I know. Do you regret it?"

"No. I couldn't."

"Neither could I."

"What are we goin' to do now?"

Mary considered this, and then smiled. She looked up and Dickon, and with a tone that was only partially teasing, she said, "We're going to marry."

Dickon laughed and held her tighter. Although she didn't know it, he'd dreamed of her saying that for years.

Then, all too soon, they both heard the manor's clock striking midnight, and decided that they both had better be going. But Mary knew that she would never forget that night, as she was completely certain that it had been the most magical one of her life.


	10. Cousins

OMG, I'm so sorry I didn't update on time: I was outta town for Easter = [ Anyways, this story is just about finished. I'll just have a chapter or two more to wrap things up, and that'll be the end of it =]

So, 'till then, I hope you enjoy it!

xxx

At last the big day had arrived. It was the day of Mary's grand ball, and the entire manor was a flurry of activity.

The maids were finishing scrubbing out the ballroom, entrance hall, as well as the desolate hallways which hadn't encountered soap since Mr. Craven had been a little boy. Then, of course, the furniture had to be re arranged and the tables set, and the ballroom's decorations had to be inspected. Mary had insisted on decking the room with her roses, and it looked exquisite. And then, of course, there was the scrumptious scent of the traditional Yorkshire meal being prepared in the kitchen. The tempting smells could be caught all over the manor. Everything was perfect… the only slight problem, was that it was almost noon and neither Colin nor Mary had decided to wake up yet.

Of course, they'd both had very eventful and long nights the day before, but, as Mrs. Medlock wasn't aware of this, she decided that it was her duty to wake the lazy things up.

Colin was easily roused by her knocking loudly on his door, and then he completely startled the old lady by rushing to open said door for her with a great smile. He had, apparently, gone to sleep fully dressed the night before, which suggested that he had gone to bed at an hour so late that he had been too tired to change.

But the young man didn't seem at all tired when he greeted Mrs. Medlock with a cheery, "Good morning! How are you today, my darling Medlock?"

Medlock blinked, unsure of how to reply to that. So she settled for standing stock still with her mouth hanging open. Unfortunately for her, this only encouraged Colin to smile wider, and then have a laugh at her expense.

"Feeling _that_ well, are you? I must say, I _am_ jealous. Now could you please tell me where Mary is? I need to talk to her as soon as I possibly can."

Still feeling quite stunned at Colin's sudden change in character, Medlock somehow managed to say the words "In bed."

Colin grinned, "Fantastic, I guess I shall just have to go and wake her then."

Turning on his heel, he started to set off for Mary's room, but then he turned around again. "Oh, I almost forgot, thank you, Mrs. Medlock!"

And with that he took her hand, gave it a chaste peck, and then turned around, leaving Mrs. Medlock feeling confused, shocked, scandalized, but in a very good mood.

"Mary, wake up. Oh, do wake up and open the door!"

"Just a few more minutes Medlock, please?"

"It isn't Medlock."

Tired as Mary was, that sentence was enough to get her to open her eyes. Not Medlock? Well, come to think of it, the voice _had_ sounded rather… masculine. Then again, that could just have been an after effect of the dream she'd just had, in which she'd been… well… interacting with a young man. But groggy as Mary was feeling, she knew that it couldn't possibly be Dickon at her door.

"Who are you then?"

"Do you really not know? I wonder at you, Mary."

Rubbing the last lingering sleepiness from her eyes, Mary realized who he was, and rushed to her door. Opening it, she was met with the same smiling Colin whom Medlock had encountered.

"Colin? Is… is everything all right?"

Colin laughed and realized what a sight he must look. His clothes were rumpled from sleep, his hair was rumpled even more badly, he had dark circles beneath his eyes, and he was grinning more broadly than he had in what seemed like forever.

"Everything is wonderful Mary… and no, I haven't gone round the bend."

At this, coupled with Colin's broad grin, Mary had to laugh.

"Then what's happened?"

"_Wonderful_ things, Mary. I don't think I've _ever_ been this glad, excluding, perhaps, the day I learned to walk and… well, the day I met you."

Mary smiled at the memory, "I remember that day… I thought you were a ghost. But then again, I _was_ very frightened."

Colin smiled too, "You didn't _seem_ frightened. I remember thinking that you must be the bravest girl in the world."

"I'm flattered, but you hadn't exactly met many other girls at that point" Mary said humbly, "And to be honest, I truly was scared. Hearing your screams over the wind, and navigating the shadowy halls of the Manor at night would be enough to frighten any ten year old, I'm sure."

"But you did it. Most ten year olds would have just stayed in their rooms as they were told." Colin argued.

"I didn't know that I was _supposed_ to do as I was told" Mary admitted, "I was a horribly spoilt child." Here she sighed.

Colin smiled at her, "You weren't nearly as badly spoilt as I was. And at least you turned out all right. Look at me. I went from an arrogant, petted little Rajah of a boy, to an arrogant, pompous, status conscious medical student. I just can't get it right, can I?"

Mary started to protest that he was being too hard on himself, but he raised a hand to silence her. "Mary, what I'm trying to say is… I've been absolutely _beastly_ to you. To you_ and _Dickon. And so, I humbly offer you my sincerest apologies for consideration."

Raising an eyebrow, Mary repeated, "You humbly offer your sincerest apologies for consideration? I'm not the Queen, you know."

Colin laughed, and then looked at her with wide and sincere grey eyes, "No Mary, you mean much more to me than she ever could. Forgive me?"

"Now that you've worded it that way… yes, I believe I shall. But... you'll have to let Dickon and I be, no matter what."

"Of course!"

"It's done then. I forgive you." Mary said sincerely. Then, to be on the safe side, she said, "But if you start to act up again, I swear, I'm going to lock you up in Ben's old vegetable patch."

"Excellent" Colin exalted. He'd only really heard the part about her forgiving him, "Now, I'd like to go and visit the garden. Care to accompany me?"

Mary was about to accept his offer, when they were both started by Medlock approaching them, "Go to the garden? Colin, are you or are you not aware that today is the day of Mary's grand ball?"

"I'm perfectly aware." Colin confirmed with an exaggerated nod.

"Then you should also know that she has a great deal of preparation to do before this evening. So, I suggest you go make yourself look more presentable, and allow her to do the same."

Colin grinned at Medlock's severe tone. Giving her a quick salute, he said, "Yes m'am!" and retreated to his room.

This left Mary to change into her ball gown, while wondering to herself what could possibly have put her cousin in such a wonderful mood.


	11. The Ball and Much More

Alright, this is the final chapter of my story... and yes, I know that I probably should have mentioned last week that there was only one left, but I honestly wasn't sure whether or not I could fit it all into one chapter.

But I did, so I hope you enjoy it =]

xxx

"Alright Miss Mary, you can open your eyes now"

"It's about time, Martha! Honestly, I don't see why I had to close them in the... _oh_!"

Martha giggled, "I told you tha' you'd be amazed. I helped decorate it m'self and I _still_ am!"

Looking around herself with wide eyes, Mary had to agree, "The ballroom _does_ look amazing... I can hardly believe how... _perfect_ it seems."

And in fact, the room _did_ look perfect. The great glass chandelier in the room's centre had finally been lit, and its warm glow reflected off of the great golden mirrors which composed the hall's walls. And then, to make the scene even more beautiful, every pillar and every corner of the room had been decked with the freshest red and white roses whose scent sweetened the air of the room till it rivaled the smell of fresh moor air. The only thing missing was the guests, who were to start arriving in a mere hour.

Mary had spent the whole day preparing for them, and she looked stunning. Her hair had been twisted into a delicate knot which rested at the nape of her neck, and it was ornamented by a cluster of blue forget-me-not's in full bloom. Her dress was the exact same shade of blue as the flowers, and the pattern she had finally decided on was a very light style, with short sleeves, a slight U-neck and a great flowing skirt which swirled about her when she spun. In the end she'd insisted to her tailor that wearing a train simply wasn't for her, so she received the next most fashionable style.

And she looked exquisite. Even Medlock had sighed with appreciation when she'd seen the finished product that was Mary.

"Tha'rt growin' up, Ms. Mary. You look just like your mother."

Mary smiled and thanked her, but she wasn't sure that she liked that compliment. She didn't _want_ to be a grown up. Not yet, anyways. All she wanted was a few more years to be a child and waste all of her time doing what she loved.

"Mary?"

Once again, Mary was shaken out of her dreaming by Mrs. Medlock, who then, to Mary's annoyance, sent Martha off to the kitchens. Mary had been about to complain, but then she saw something which made her laugh:

Medlock was looking at her with an almost tender expression, and in her eyes, Mary could see... "Mrs. Medlock? Are you… crying?"

The old woman blushed, "What? No! No… now, get along, you've got to go an' start greetin' the guests."

And in fact, some of the more punctual guests had already started arriving. Mary scanned their faces as soon as they were in sight, looking for her cousin. After their morning conversation, Colin had been forced to take his leave of the manor: he had promised his friend Rupert that he would ride out to his home and visit before they both came back for the ball. So, Mary had never found out what exactly had put him in his good mood.

Unfortunately, Mary soon realized that Colin was not among the crowd, but she still tried her very best to remain cordial as she greeted her guests. She soon struck up a conversation with some young ladies she had known from school, and they were just beginning to discuss their ball gowns when she finally noticed Colin on the other side of the ballroom. To her surprise he was not accompanied by Rupert, or even one of the many young ladies in the room.

No, he had chosen now, of all times, to talk to his father. Both of them looked serious, and Mary noticed Colin give her a furtive glance. Clearly whatever they were discussing concerned her.

"That's exactly what I was thinking! Shall we go and say hello then, Mary? Mary?"

Mary blinked, "Er, go on without me, do. I've only just remembered something important I needed to tell my uncle."

"Alright then, you'll know where to find us when you're done Mary!"

With a polite smile, Mary bowed away from them and approached her cousin and uncle. They were standing in a more secluded corner of the room, in the gap between a great gilded pillar and the wall.

"Oh, hello cousin! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Mary sighed, and then ushered her family out of the nearby ball room door. She wanted to have this conversation in private.

Once they were out of earshot of the ballroom, she said, "Colin, I've been waiting to talk to you all day. I wanted to ask you -"

But her uncle interrupted her, "Whatever it was, I'm sure it can wait. I've just received some interesting news concerning _you_, Mary."

Mary bit her lip, "Colin told you?"

Mr. Craven's brows knit in confusion, "Told me what?"

Colin, who had also been waiting to talk to Mary all day, took this opportunity to interrupt. "I haven't told him anything yet, but I was _about_ to. Father, there's something you need to know…"

Mary, who was fairly certain that Colin was about to reveal her love of Dickon to her uncle, cried out, "Colin, don't!"

"Why not? It _needs_ to be said."

"Please Colin, _not yet_!"

Mr. Craven raised a hand for silence, and then gave the young adults a knowing look, "This is about young Sowerby, isn't it?"

Colin nodded solemnly, "Yes, father it is. I –"

"_Don't!"_

"_Relax_, Mary," Colin said with a small laugh, "This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Of course it does! You said that it was about Sowerby!"

Colin nodded the affirmative, "It_ is._ Father, I - "

"Oh, uncle forgive me! I didn't mean to, I just -"

"Have fallen in love with Elizabeth Sowerby."

Mary blinked, "No I haven't, Colin. _I'm_ in love with... oh!"

Colin nodded sheepishly, and both Mary Lennox and Archie Craven felt their eyebrows fly to their scalps. This was not what they had been expecting.

"You mean _you're_ in love with… _you_ are… _what_?"

Colin grinned, "Why Mary, I thought that of all people, _you'd_ understand the Sowerby charm."

"Yes… but you… all that nonsense about honor and status…and then you… Oh, I'm confused."

Here Colin merely shrugged, "Well, I suppose that's love."

And then, Mary couldn't help but laugh. After all of his stern reprimands and warnings about her loving Dickon, the fates had made Colin fall for Dickon's sister.

He, for his part, had started blushig lightly. And when this was coupled with the way his hair fell into his big, embarrassed, grey eyes, Mary saw that his feelings for Lizzy were as real as hers for Dickon.

"Er, yes, well… I suppose I had better be getting back to the party" Colin stammered out after a moment of silence. Mary let him go, and then made to re-enter the ballroom herself when Mr. Craven remembered what he had been going to tell his niece in the first place. "Mary?"

She turned back towards him, "Yes?"

"You're sixteen."

She blinked, not understanding. "Yes… I know."

A slow smile started appearing on the old man's face, "Well, while may you know that, I'm quite sure that you don't know that I received a letter today. From the executor of your parent's will in India."

Starting to see where this was going, Mary egged him on, "And?"

"According to him, your parent's will left their entire estate and fortune to you. Now, the estate's probably in ruins as it's been empty since their death, but their fortune is still safe in a bank in England. And now that you're sixteen, you can, well, you can legally claim it."

Mary was stunned. How had she not known this? Why had no one ever told her before today?

It was a miracle. Nothing short of a miracle.

Now, of course, money had never been very important to Mary… but ever since she'd gotten back from boarding school it had taken up a larger and larger part of her thoughts. To be specific, she had been wondering how she would ever be able to manage marrying Dickon. She knew marrying him meant that her family name would be disgraced, but the bigger issue had been that they'd never be able to afford a proper home. After all, being from a respectably family she couldn't have possibly gone to get an occupation and earn for them, and his gardener's income could never suffice.

Of course she knew that her uncle would have been only too happy to stay at the manor, but when he passed on and Colin inherited it, she knew that it wouldn't be proper for them to stay. Especially after he married. She couldn't expect him to support her forever, so she was thrilled to have her very own fortune.

"Oh, how much is it, uncle?"

He smiled, "More than enough to last your lifetime. No matter whom you marry."

At this, she could contain herself no longer. She let out a shriek of laughter and joy, and threw her arms around her uncle, "You knew! I should have known!"

"Of course I knew. I'm you're uncle, and you're _so_ like dear Lilian. Now, _I_ say that it's about time for you to forget this party and go visit your garden."

"But I've been preparing for this ball for weeks! Medlock will go _mad_."

Then Mr. Craven gave her a smile that could only be described as sly, "Oh, _I _can handle the old bird, don't you worry about that. _You _should be worried about that lonely boy I spotted in your garden earlier. I'm willing to bet he hasn't left yet, in the hopes that a certain someone might be coming to see him…"

"Oh, he's there!"

"Yes, but you'd better hurry or you'll miss him."

Giving her uncle a final hug and a cry of thanks, Mary tore off to her garden.

xxx

"Dickon! Dickon, thank _goodness_ you're still here!"

"Ms. _Mary_? Should'na tha be at the... _Oof_!"

She had run straight into him, and he was knocked onto his back with her on top (and, of course, the poor robin that had been sitting on his shoulder was forced to flee to a nearbye tree and twitter angrily). After shaking his curly head to re-orient himself, Dickon propped himself up on his elbows, "Oh Mary, tha'rt _completely_ mad. I reckon someone must'a told tha before, but I think tha need remindin'. Tha canna just go runnin' into– Mmmm... _Mary_"

He was cut of by her pressing her lips to his. Then Dickon's eyes closed as Mary buried her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. When they broke apart he breathed, "Mary tha _canna_ keep doin' that!"

"Doing what?" Mary asked in a falsely innocent voice as she began tracing kisses down his lightly freckled neck.

Dickon blushed, "Well, _that_. Tha knows as well as I do that we canna marry. Last night was… it was the best night o' my life, but it's over. Tha canna throw thy life away for me."

Mary's kisses abruptly stopped, "Throw my life away? Dickon, you _are_ my life, you fool! You and my garden. And I do fully intend to marry you, for your kind information."

"But… how?"

"Just listen for a moment, will you? Just... pretend I'm a bird. And you're memorizing my song so you can sing it back later."

Dickon laughed, "_There _now. That's _much_ better than that dancin' bears thing tha tried a couple o' days ago."

"Oh hush up and listen!"

So, Mary explained everything. Her inheritance, her plans to marry him, and her plans to use the inheritance to by a plot of empty moorland near Misselthwaite, and then build them their very own home.

Sure the plan wasn't perfect, and Dickon could actually see many potential and obvious problems they would encounter. But he, like Mary, knew that the end result would be worth every single hardship they faced.

And both of them also knew, that with the magic of the moor on their side, they couldn't fall.


End file.
